


Like a Flame that Flickers Out too Soon...

by GreenAppleSause



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Angst, Burr can't stop shooting Alex, Can we start calling this "pulling a Burr"?, Character Death, Don't shoot people, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Family Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I got bit by the angst bug, I'm nowhere near sorry, I've never even written for this fandom before, John's nickname is Jacky, Kinda, M/M, Modern AU, My First Work in This Fandom, Pulling a Burr, and there is comfort, breakdowns, eliza is a good friend to these two, guns aren't a good way to wind down after work, i call philip pip, i mean they are hurt, it was this or more death angst, screw uncle Burr, some comforting anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-07
Updated: 2017-04-07
Packaged: 2018-10-15 22:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10558402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenAppleSause/pseuds/GreenAppleSause
Summary: You did not live to see our glory....





	

**Author's Note:**

> Who let me write angst? My girlfriend did. Kinda...

John wasn’t expecting this at all. Getting a call from the hospital saying that Alex was dead. Shot. He and Burr were at the shooting range for a bit of a wind down after work. Apparently there was an accident and he got hit.

John didn’t want to believe it.

He just _couldn’t_ believe it.

And how was he meant to tell Philip.

He and Alex had been lucky enough that Alexander’s ex, Eliza, had been willing to carry a child for them, and Philip was born. And the two of them were so grateful to her, and owed her so much.

Biologically, Philip was Alex’s, but he looked so much like John it was uncanny. Eliza was just as surprised as she saw him grow up.

‘Are you sure that Alexander was the donor? Because he definitely looks like he’s yours,’ she had said when Philip was three.

But Philip grew into his father’s spirit. A quick to anger, had to forgive young man at age nine. He had a talent for piano and poetry, and had a strong grudge against a boy in his class, George Eacker. Alex had been unofficially uninvited to any and all parent teacher meetings after encouraging his son’s biting of other children.

John approached Philip’s bedroom, and he could hear him practicing some poems, happy ones, ones that would change after he spoke to him.

Breathing in, John knocked on the slightly ajar door of his son’s room, peaking in.

‘Dad, is it tea time now? I haven’t heard Pops come home yet,’ Philip asked, opening his door.

_He’s only nine_ , John thought, looking at his son. He looked so bright.

‘Philip… Pops isn’t… he isn’t…’

John tried. He tried to hold back the tears that he has yet to let fall, but looking at the way Phillip’s expression changed when he spoke, he couldn’t help but cry.

‘Dad…’ Phillip tried to get his dad to stop crying, but he couldn’t quite get what he was saying. Phillip prided himself on being able to find the words, but here he just wasn’t able to.

‘I’m… I’m so sorry Pip… He’s not coming home. Alex is… He _can’t_ come back. I want him back… I don’t know _how_ I’m going to…’ John broke down. In front of his son, no less. ‘Maybe you should… go to your aunt’s for a bit…’

‘Dad, I don’t… I don’t understand.’

Phillip’s voice wavered as he watched his dad cry on his knees, in his doorway. _What does he mean Pop’s isn’t going to come home? He always comes home…_

‘Pops… he was… Uncle Burr accidentally… Pops…’ John took a deep breath. ‘Pops was shot and he… he…’

John broke again. He pulled his son into a hug and sobbed. ‘Pip… he’s _gone_. He’s dead and I… I _can’t do anything_! I want him back _so bad_... I’m so _so_ sorry…’

And he continued to cry.

Philip couldn’t process the information. His Pops was… dead? Gone? Once the information settled though, he was unsure of how to feel. Obviously, he felt sad, full to the brim with despair, just as his dad was, but he also felt rage. He wanted to storm down the street to his Uncle Burr’s house and _just_...

He didn’t know…

So instead he cried. He hugged his dad, and he cried. The two of them were in pain, yes, pain and full of resentment.

‘We… we’re gonna be okay, right, dad?’

John wasn’t sure.

They were unsure of how much time they spent on the floor just crying until they couldn’t cry anymore, and even then they stayed there until they heard someone at the door.

John had still not recovered by this time, but Philip was willing to help, and got the door. He tried to wipe the tear stains from his face as he opened the door for his Aunt Eliza.

‘Oh, Philip, dear,’ and she burst into tears, adding to the streaks already going down her face, picking up the nine year old, who physically couldn’t cry anymore, and carried him back to his dad, just pulling himself up off the floor.

‘Liz… I guess you heard... ‘ he whispered.

She nodded, the hurt young boy curled into her side. ‘Of course I heard, Jacky, you think something like this wouldn’t go through the whole group.

‘I wish you didn’t have to deal with this though. You or Pip.’

John nodded, moving to the kitchen. The phone on the floor, food out of the cupboards and fridge, everything as it would be on a normal day, when John would have been preparing dinner for the three of them after Alex got home from work. But a single phone call changed that.

‘I guess we should have dinner…’

Eliza stepped in front of John, not allowing him to cook. ‘I’m sorry, but we’re having take out tonight, and I’m staying over, mine and Angelica’s orders. You two need support and not to push yourselves.’

John silently agreed, taking Philip from Eliza’s arms for the second time in nine years. But last time, his husband stood by his side.

‘You order something, we’ll go set up the spare room.’

‘Aunt Eliza can have my room. I… I don’t want to sleep alone tonight, and I don’t think you should…’ Philip piped up.

Eliza smiled at him. ‘I’m fine with taking Pip’s room. You keep him with you tonight.’

As the night went on, the Eliza and Philip ended up falling asleep on the couch and John sang softly when he took Philip to bed.

_You did not live to see your glory, but you certainly joined the fight. And when our son tells our story, he’ll tell the story of tonight._

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sorry...


End file.
